Sleeping Beauty
by Sanbrittany
Summary: Quinn is left comatose in hospital after the crash. Trapped in her unresponsive body, she can only wait and listen, desperately hoping she will get a second chance.
1. Chapter 1

Beep. Beep. Beep. The monotonous noise emitted from what she could only assume was some sort of life support machine bored into Quinn's brain like a drill. Beep. Beep. Endless, repetitive beeping. She could picture the screen; a thin green line dipping up and down, carefully monitoring her condition, recording every beat of her heart and every breath she took. Sometimes it was reassuring, reminding her that as long as she could hear the dull, electronic beep of the machine, she was still alive. Other times it was frightening, not knowing if she would ever know life outside of the sterile-smelling hospital room she imagined herself to be in again.

Beep. She hated it. Beep. She hated that yet again, she had no control over her life. She hated that just as she'd seen the future, one where she finally had a chance to get out of Lima and make something of herself, it had been taken away. She hated that she was so weak, completely reliant upon a machine; that she couldn't support herself anymore, that she was no longer the strong, powerful cheerleader and performer Quinn Fabray. Everything that could have been flashed before her in a torrent of woe: winning at Nationals with New Directions, being back on the Cheerios, graduating High School, going to Yale, watching Beth grow up... Seeing her love's face again... It scared her to think she might never wake up, that she might never experience any of it. Beep. Beep. The beeps grew closer together as her thoughts raced, and she listened with interest as they slowly began to even out into a steady beat. The beeping seemed to fluctuate according to her emotions: when she was calm, the beats came slowly but steadily. At times like this, however, when her head filled with anger and regret and restless thoughts, it hammered at a relentless pace, to the point at which a doctor or nurse would come rushing with loud footsteps to check on her.

She lost track of time, never knowing if it was day or night, what day it was, how long she had been here. She drifted in and out of consciousness, never quite able to distinguish where one ended and the other began, forever stuck in this dark, motionless limbo. How had this happened? Her visitors mentioned something about a crash between choked sobs and whispered regrets, but never anything more.

Sometimes she prayed. She prayed that her eyes would finally obey her and open, that she could move her dormant body and see, touch, smell… but for now, all she could do was lie here. Helpless, listening, waiting. She longed to hear something other than the beeping and weeping, longed to hear her beautiful Beth's laughter, Sam's impressions, Brittany's oddly insightful remarks and Santana's sneering insults… anything. She wondered whether Puckerman had finally gotten himself a haircut, how Kurt and Blaine were, whether Karofsky was in the same hospital as she was… Even the low, irritating drone of Finn Hudson would be preferable to this. But most of all, she prayed to see one person's face again. She craved to see the beaming, well-practised smile which illuminated her love's face and overshadowed everyone else in the room. To see her eyes, deep and sparkling, to breathe in the soft, comforting scent of her perfume and to hear her voice, sweeter than honey.

A noise. The gentle click of the door handle as it was released. Quinn strained her ears, listening intently. It would only be a member of staff as usual, she told herself, armed with clipboard and pen and bound by routine, opening another door to press a few buttons and make a few notes, to gently test her responsiveness and leave. It would only be the doctor. Or a cleaner. But secretly, she hoped it was…her.

Her heartbeat, magnified and transferred into beeps by the machine at her bedside, increased in speed. What if she never woke up? What if she stayed like this forever, still as waxwork, a prisoner in her own body? Or worse… what if they turned the machine off? What if they whispered their final goodbyes, filled in the paperwork and flipped the switch before Quinn could ever look upon the beautiful face which she saw so clearly even in the darkness, never hold her, never tell her how she felt?


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey Quinnie…" a soft voice murmured nearby.

Brittany. Quinn breathed out, her heart heavy with a disappointment she knew her visitor could not detect, the noise emitted by her heart monitor slowing once more. It wasn't her. It wasn't Rachel. She heard Brittany's footsteps glide across the room, followed by a scream of surprise and the crash of china against something hard.

"Uh-oh.. Uhh..." _Oh Brittany_. "Don't worry! Everything's fine..." a shuffling to one side of her told Quinn Brittany was clearing up whatever she'd broken. "Good as new! ...Kinda."

Quinn heard slide of chair legs across the floor, then the sound of her friend sitting down. A warm, light hand carefully brushed the hair from Quinn's forehead and Brittany pressed a light kiss to the top of Quinn's head.

"I made you another card," the dancer said in a sing-song voice, and Quinn heard a rustling as Brittany placed it down on a nearby surface somewhere on her right. "That's the…" the girl's voice dropped to a whisper as she quickly counted under her breath "…One, two, nine, four… Twelfth one!" she exclaimed in accomplishment, and Quinn had the overwhelming urge to jump up and hug her friend. If only she could. Her body remained stubbornly unresponsive, as though in a deep sleep. "It's got a duckie on," Brittany continued in a matter-of-fact voice, "And San and Lord Tubbington signed it with all their love."

They sat in what Quinn would like to consider a companionable silence, not that she could have broken it if she tried. Brittany carefully combed through Quinn's short hair, humming the unmistakable melody of 'My Cup' under her breath. Quinn's heart smiled, but her face remained stony and motionless, a living soul trapped in an unresponsive, deathlike body. The soft pillow beneath Quinn's head dipped slightly on her right as Brittany gently set down her hair her hairbrush and began plaiting a small section of her hair. The humming stopped, and Quinn could picture the look of concentration upon her friend's face as she finished the braid, securing it with a satisfied sigh. "There!" the dancer said cheerily, "You look super pretty, Q. When you wake up, you'll have to come feed the duckies with me. Lord Tubbington doesn't like going to the park. He says it's degrading to go on walks together, because that's what dogs do..." Brittany's voice trailed away. Quinn felt the girl take her cool, limp hand in her own and give it a squeeze. "He also said comas are just a really good dream you don't ever want to wake up from." The sound of chair legs against the floor was heard once more as Brittany's footsteps moved to the other side of the room, seemingly moving the chair back to its original position, then grew louder as she returned to the bedside. "Sweet dreams, Quinn." A kiss to her cheek. "I'll stop by again soon." The footsteps faded away and she was alone once more.

The sudden loneliness Quinn felt as Brittany left the room far exceeded her initial disappointment that her visitor had not been who she'd hoped. But, then, it never was. She stared listlessly into the abyss of darkness to which she had grown so accustomed, the dull whirring and beeping filling the otherwise silent room. She lost track of time, wondered whether she was sleeping, dreaming, or simply seeing Rachel's image projected in her mind, hearing the starlet sing a soft lullaby in her ears. She never _could_ say goodbye, even to something she'd never had.


End file.
